


a moment of your time

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Daisy is frustrated that Phil is so perfect, F/M, Fame, First Kiss, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Innuendo, Older Man/Younger Woman, Paparazzi, Phil adores Daisy, Phil would do anything for Daisy, Secrets, hints about Secret Warriors, in the dark together, rebels who hate fascist together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Phil is Daisy's hiding place. Written for #thejcexchange as a bonus for the prompt: At the drive-in theater.





	

"Agent Johnson."

She stops, with her back turned to him, as they make their way out of the Director's office.

Coulson turns around, hands on his hips, and they share brief eye contact as she schools her expression, and swivels to look at Director Mace.

"Yes?" she asks, with a benevolent look of utmost cooperation, while holding onto her "esss" a little longer than necessary.

He stares down at the mission report on the pad in his hands, then taps it off, as he glances up at her.

"A moment of your time? If you will?"

Holding herself in place, she sees Mace look past her, at Coulson, and then hears his footsteps as he leaves the room, and shuts the door behind him.

"Sorry," he tells her, walking closer. "It's nothing personal. You and Phil make a great team. He always said you were one of his best agents."

She nods at that, slowly, then stares up at him.

"Is this about the mission?" Then starts to explain. "Because-"

"No," he chuckles, then raises a reassuring hand. "No, you did great. In fact, you did exactly the thing that I would've done. In your situation."

"Well," she answers, raising her eyebrows. "Is this a gold-star pep talk, Director?"

"We don't have gold stars, Daisy," he smiles, then looks down. "I know you're not used to the way SHIELD works now, but it's about everyone doing their part, trying to make this the best SHIELD possible."

"So, then, what is this about?" she shrugs, clasping her hands together in front of her when he stares back at her again.

"The future. I thought that maybe we could talk...about that?"

"Of course," she answers, letting her hands slip apart, then touching them to her sides.

"How can I help?"

 

  
###

 

  
"¿Te gustaría salir para cenar?"

"Not like that," she tells Elena. "It was more like he said we could discuss it over dinner, and then I said 'sure', but-"

"So, not asking you out?"

She glances past the kitchen, to the common area, to see who is about, and then leans in closer to her.

"He's just trying to pick my brain, figure out how I operate. If I'm going to cooperate with this new SHIELD or not."

"Eh," Elena says, bored-sounding, as she continues to wash the dish. "Then why are you whispering? Who cares?"

Daisy looks over her shoulder, and sees Coulson and Mack watching Netflix together. All because she and Elena lost a bet.

She should've known better than to bet with Mack.

"It's weird," she tells her, getting back on track. "Coulson never asked me out to dinner when he was Director. To talk about 'the future'. He just listened, or acted on-"

"Because Coulson is different," she says, giving Daisy the dish to dry. "He values different things. And he takes his time to-"

"Coulson sees me as his protégée, or something," she informs her, turning to put the dish away into the cabinet.

"Coulson spent six months trying to track _something_ down," Elena says, insistent, slapping another plate against her empty palm.

"Can't you wash these dishes any faster?" Daisy mutters, suddenly fidgety.

"They would be washed already, but you wanted to talk. You seem too nervous about this."

"Nervous about what?"

Daisy startles for a moment, realizing he crept up on them, but he catches the plate with his prosthetic hand and sets in on the counter.

"The Director asked Daisy out," Elena offers bluntly.

It's almost imperceptible, except to Elena, since it's all in slow motion to her. But Daisy has figured out to watch and pick up her expressions as a way of reading people too.

"On a date?" he asks, like he thinks it's funny, or he's wanting to act nonplussed by it.

"Not a date," Daisy huffs, and tosses the dishrag into the sink. "He just wants to talk."

"You should go with your instincts," he tells her, after a moment, using his eyes to check in with her when she looks up. She feels the tension in her stomach start to uncoil.

"Thank you," she says.

Like a weight has been lifted off of her.

 

###

 

This is the kind of place that makes her feel out of place.

Maybe that wasn't his intention, though. He's kind of hard to read.

They arrived together in the SHIELD sedan and she finds herself not quite able to make small talk this time.

It's just that everything around them is empty, like it's been cleared out of their path for this occasion. Kind of eerie.

"Right through here, Agent Johnson," he tells her, holding the door open.

They get inside and the restaurant is also empty. There is a waiter and a table set in the middle of the room.

He unbuttons just one button of his jacket, so that he can sit down smoothly into the chair, which seems a little small for him.

"This is uncomfortable, isn't it?" he admits, once their both seated, as the waiter pours water into their glasses.

"I'm sorry," he says, staring down at the menu. "I thought that you felt ambushed by the press the other day. I've been doing my best to keep them at bay."

"Why all of this?" she asks, gesturing around them. "We could've met at the base."

"Ah," he starts, when the waiter arrives with wine. "Perfect timing." He waits for the pour, then takes a drink from the glass. "We're not in the shadows anymore, Daisy."

"This isn't exactly like being in public," she shrugs, pulling at the sleeves of her leather jacket with her fingertips.

Her eyes fix on the menu that he's not really reading. The way the wine was already selected. It's all orchestrated.

He gives a small sigh, with a sympathetic expression to match. "Like I said, it was to keep them at bay."

He nods over her shoulder, and she turns in time to see the flashes going off from the row of windows, into the restaurant.

Pointed at the two of them.

"Excuse me," she says, standing up from the table and heading towards the bathrooms, trying not to panic.

She swings open the door of the bathroom stall, and sits down on the closed lid of the toilet, putting the heel of her hand against her forehead.

This never felt right. She takes a breath, tries to feel centered.

Then thinks about going with her instincts, instead of fighting it.

Digging around inside her pocket for her phone, she hesitates for only a moment before she starts to tap at it, standing up again.

"Whatever you thought this was going to be, it's not," she says, returning to stop in front of him at the table.

He politely puts his napkin down on top of his plate, and starts to pull his chair out.

"You shouldn't let this all go to waste," she says, motioning to him with her hand. "So, please, sit. Finish your dinner."

Making her way through the restaurant towards the kitchen, she pulls out her phone to check it again, the corner of her mouth catching.

Even as she swings open the back door of the restaurant to the smell of garbage and the alleyway, she hears the screech of tires and sees the flash of red turn the corner.

Lola arrives, and he leans across to unlock her door.

As she settles into the seat and then belts up, he hands her a pair of large black sunglasses. "You'll want these."

"A little dramatic, don't you think?"

She takes them from him when she sees the bodies and flashes crowd into the alleyway in from of them, closing the distance, blocking their exit.

He flips on Lola's floodlights, then leans his hand across the seat behind her, turning across his shoulder with a look of concentration, driving out backwards.

Sinking lower into the seat, the lights all seem a little less blinding.

 

 

###

 

"What is all this?" she asks, as Lola rolls in slowly to the empty spot.

This is another strange moment, too. Like time isn't quite right here, unless you look closely.

Lola might seem like she fits right in, until you see the cracks in the concrete, and the flickering bulbs wound into rusty overhead lamps.

"You said you wanted to get out of there."

It's nice to get out, sure, but none of this is what she had in mind. "Mace ambushed me. Again."

"That's starting to be a problem, isn't it?" he quips, and lifts a bright-colored menu from the sleeve holding it next to the speaker at the driver's side.

"He wanted to send a message," she answers, jerking it out of his hand. "That I can't hide anymore."

She's starting to regret her tone just now because, after all, he did come to her rescue.

A voice comes crackling over the speaker and asks for their order.

"Just a moment," he replies, politely, pushing the button on the speaker in answer.

"There are all kinds of ways to hide," he goes on, turning the keys to let Lola rest. "Me? I kind of blend right in. You on the other hand-"

"I'm Inhuman," she finishes, squinting at the menu through the tint of the glasses.

"I was going to say, you're unforgettable," he replies, meeting her eyes and slowly starting to smile at her. "Do you know what you want?"

She's had enough of staring at him through these ridiculous sunglasses and it's night, it's dark out, and there really isn't anyone around, just a few cars, and she pulls them down her face in frustration and folds them up.

"Can you stop, please? Stop being so-"

He answers by raising his eyebrows, a little bit of mischief playing in his eyes as he waits for her to continue.

"So everything he's not," she tosses back, sitting back in her seat as he frowns, turning serious.

"You mean Mace?" His eyes narrow like he wants to understand this very clearly.

"Mace," she starts, then it dawns on her. "Lincoln, Ward, Miles...." she finishes.

His eyes get wide for a moment while he tries to sort through what this means, and she can already see him turning inward.

Her instincts tell her one thing, her fears say another, then she settles it, tugging on the front of his shirt and pressing her mouth against his.

It happens so quickly, she's already regretting it. Because this could be it. It, whatever it is, could be over, because she ruins things like this. Even when she's trying to help, she still always ruins-

"Daisy-"

The nearby lights dim around them, and the screen in front of the cars scattered around the place comes to life, as big music starts to swell over the opening credits.

It's a black and white movie, and it's not something instantly familiar, if she could only place it....

She didn't want to ruin things. With him. Never with him.

"Thank you," she says abruptly, and turns back towards him, with a small smile. "For helping me to hide."

He has a bit of a puzzled expression still lingering there, illuminated by the far off light.

"Anytime," he answers, kindly.

As if nothing has really changed between them, even though she just kissed him, impulsively, like she always does when things start to get too messy.

They both turn to watch the screen. And when there is enough light from one of the movie's scenes, she glances at him, and he watches her back.

"I just kissed you."

"Yeah, you did. It was all kind of a blur, really."

She leans forward again, and then stops, just short, going slowly this time, wanting to be sure. He meets her the rest of the way.

He kisses slow, and tender, and when it seems she's just getting used to feeling of his lips against hers, she hears the music rise again, while he teases his tongue against her bottom lip, then tugs on it gently, like he's asking for permission.

It makes a sigh slip out from wherever you put those things, and then a smile. She can feel his matched against hers.

"I think you just kissed me," she says, as her smile gets wider.

"I did."

"Kiss me again?"

 

 

###

 

  
"Agent Johnson."

He stops her in the hallway, just as she's heading back to her quarters after the post-mission debrief.

"There are just a few....discrepancies....I need you to go over with me."

"Oh?" she asks, holding her hand out to him towards the pad tucked under his arm.

"No, no need to go over the debrief." He smiles that same smile, moving closer. "That matter is closed. This is more off-the-record."

"I see," she nods slowly. "More sightings of 'Inhuman vigilantes'?"

"We have a bit of a copycat phenomenon on our hands, it seems."

"You mean, Inhumans fighting back against the Watchdogs?"

"Probably inevitable," he concedes. "It's only that they seem organized, with some familiar tactics. I thought maybe you could offer some insight?"

Does she really have time for this right now? Probably. Does she _want_ to make time for this-

"Jeff, can this wait?" Coulson says, appearing at her side, from seemingly out of nowhere, so that Mace is a little startled.

Phil," he smiles. "I'm starting to think maybe we should've put one of those bracelets on you!"

"Okay," he replies, with an awkward furrow of his eyebrows. "I'm sorry," he apologizes, "I just need to borrow Daisy for a moment. Mission-critical?"

"Have you located another rogue Inhuman?" Mace asks, glancing between the two of them.

"Yes, exactly that!" Coulson says, lifting a finger to Mace. "We're getting ready to go wheels up and engage."

"Excellent," Mace answers. "Be sure to include it in your report," he adds as he pats on the screen of his tablet.

"Right."

Coulson leads Daisy towards the hangar bay with his hand on her elbow.

"Agent Johnson, a moment of your time?" he asks in a low voice, when they head up inside of the Z-1.

"What did you find me, Agent Coulson?" she asks, between her teeth as they make their way to the private office.

"A new recruit," he says, once they're alone, inside, and the door is shut behind them.

"Mmm," she says, setting her hands behind her on the desk. "Any other details you'd like to share?"

She can feel the hum of the engines coming to life, the noise just before they go vertical.

"Are you requesting a debrief?" he asks quietly, stepping a little closer to her.

Sliding her arms around his neck, his hands come to rest around her waist, while she leans in to whisper in his ear.

"I was hoping you would ask."


End file.
